Legacy
by ohcEEcho
Summary: What if Dante had followed Vergil when he jumped into Hell? Would Vergil’s fate at the hands of Mundus have been different with his brother by his side? End of DMC3 AU, no slash
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: First DMC fic. I adore brothers in fandom, and this pair are my most recent obsession. You'll find NO SLASH here, folks! I have absolutely nothing against it, but I prefer not to slash family members. Okies?**

**WARNING: This fic contains copious amounts of hurt/comfort/fluff. Because fluff is the luff. Savvy?**

**Oh yeah, I haven't actually played the DMC games, so if I get any facts wrong, please leave a review and let me know about it!**

**Prologue**

_No matter how hard you try, you're never going to be like father._

The roar of blood in his ears was only matched by that of the river below. It beat relentlessly in his ears, screaming at him to push harder, faster. He _had _to win. Had to prove to himself, to Dante, to the world, that he was the stronger of the two of them.

_I need __**more **__power._

The torrential rush of water caught his feet, and his right leg gave way, sending him crashing down into the shallows, panting. He bent low, his forehead practically touching the surface of the water, flecks of spray spattering his face almost mockingly.

"Am I…being defeated…?" He gasped between heaving gulps of moist, cool air. It made his lungs feel heavy. His entire body was shaking with exertion, trembling with fatigue. He was reaching his limit.

He felt rather than saw his brother approach, a dark, crimson figure towering over him. Dante's breathing was deep but regular, efficient, not straining. His brother had gained the upper hand. Somehow, between here and their last encounter, he had grown stronger.

Much stronger.

"Come on! Is that all you've got?" Dante taunted, a triumphant smirk curling his lips "Get up! You can do better than that."

Vergil curled his fingers slowly around Yamato's hilt, trying to draw one last ounce of strength from its solidity. The bones of his fingers felt brittle, the blade heavier than it had ever been in his palm. Slowly, he raised his head, staring at his distorted reflection in the water.

Same face. Same nose, same mouth, same eyes. Everything was identical. And yet, they were not the same. The eyes of his brother burned with deep strength which was absent in his own.

He forced himself to his feet with some effort, and immediately, the ground began to shake beneath him. He looked sharply about, noting the ominous tremble of the rocky landscape, then glanced upward.

"The portal to the human world is closing, Dante." It was not a warning, he told himself. Just a statement. "Because the amulets have been separated."

Dante's eyes were hard. He did not spare the closing portal even a glance. He intended to end this fight with everything he had. "Let's finish this, Vergil. I have to stop you." He looked unflinchingly into Vergil's eyes "Even if it means killing you."

Vergil felt something numb and cold fill his chest, but suppressed it. He raised his Father's sword, ignoring how heavy it was and how it seemed ill-fitting in his hand. Reluctant. But a sword had no will of it's own.

They both charged at precisely the same time. In eerie synchrony, they ran towards each other, matched step for stop, breath for breath. Vergil felt the world slow, time pausing to watch this most tragic of climaxes.

A sudden piercing pain in his gut. Flesh tore and blood spurted from him, flying from Rebellion in a graceful arc. The sword of his Father slipped from his grasp, his half of the amulet falling to the river as though it was ashamed of him.

Breathing heavily, he reached to retrieve it, the enormity of his defeat crashing over him in waves of shock and anger and malice. How could he accept this? After all he had done, all he had fought for, how could he face this humiliation?

He would rather die.

"No one can have this, Dante." He clutched the amulet to his chest, staggering backwards "It's mine. It belongs to a Son of Sparda."

Dante turned, and his brow furrowed in confusion for a moment. Vergil felt his right foot hit solid rock; the edge of the precipice. He saw his brother's eyes widen in shock, as he realized what Vergil obviously intended to do.

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was cowardly. Maybe it was childish. But it was what he wanted.

Dante charged, but stopped as the tip of Yamato's blade found his throat, fear filling his features and making him look like the little brother Vergil sometimes wished still existed. The naïve boy who had believed Vergil could do no wrong.

He supposed he had failed Dante as much as he had failed himself.

"Leave me and go, if you don't want to be trapped in the demon world."

He had never been a worthy successor. That right had always belonged to Dante. He just had never been able to accept it.

"I'm staying. This place…was our Father's home."

One small step, and he was falling, tumbling backwards as though death was eager to claim him. He vaguely heard Dante cry his name, reach desperately for him, and was surprised to find that he was smiling.

In this, at least, he would have his way.

He swung his blade, sliced a shallow cut in his Dante's palm. A final farewell. A taunt that Dante could only catch the tip of his blade, and not his brother's hand.

And then, he was plunged into complete darkness.

&&&

**A/N: IMPORTANT: If this sucked, I can just leave it like this as a one-shot. If anyone wants me to continue, however, the next chapter would be in Dante POV and involve me completely ignoring Capcom and its crappy sad endings. Because we all know Dante could and should have jumped straight after his big bro!**

**This chapter was kinda emo…please review and let me know if I should continue!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: An enormous thanks to my fabulous reviewers! Your encouragement is invaluable! Anyway, here's the second chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. If I did, this would not be fanfiction, but canon game play. **

**By the way, **_italic text is quoted from Lady _and _**italic bold is quoted from Dante. **_**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 2**

_What would you know about family! You're a demon! _

He supposed he had never truly known what 'normal' family life was. After all, breeding between different species wasn't exactly common. Especially between humans and demons. Hell, if he'd been an only child, he would have been one of a kind. He'd have liked that. Well, maybe not so much.

_He's my father! I'm responsible for all this mess. Besides, who else can undo what he's done?_

Responsibility? He had never known it, and never wanted to. When he had lost all that he cared about, he was only a child. He hadn't really understood just what had been taken from him. Trusting in nobody but himself and the sword which was the last remnants of a fractured legacy. That was how he lived. But then…

_I'm driven by the inability to forgive him! My soul is screaming, demanding me to kill him! _

…Vergil.

_Why do you care so much?_

Lady had known precisely where she stood in regards to her Father. Her hatred, her desire for vengeance for her mother's death had given her the motivation to go to any lengths. He understood. He had spent half his life exacting revenge on an entire race in the name of retribution.

_**This whole business started with my Father sealing the entrance between the two worlds. **_

He hated Sparda. Hated his Father for being weak, for abandoning them, for dying. For leaving nothing but destruction and agony and a broken world for his son. Well, sons. But Dante hadn't known that until recently.

_**And now, my brother's trying to break that spell and turn everything into Demonville. **_

He hadn't understood. Still didn't. And now, he realized, he hadn't even tried to. He had been afraid of the result. Terrified that his brother was beyond saving, that his body still lived, but the Vergil he had known was gone. Somehow, it was easier to believe that. To not dare to hope.

_**Quite frankly, at first, I didn't give a damn… **_Or so he had told himself.

Dante stood perfectly still, arm outstretched, his fingers frozen grasping at nothingness. He had failed again. It was just like before. Yet again, he had lost everything that mattered because of his own stubborn foolishness.

Well…maybe not. He still had a choice.

The ground felt like it was trying to shake itself to pieces. All around him the landscape seemed to be self-destructing, tearing itself apart. He stared at the place where Vergil had fallen out of sight, and felt the flow of the river pushing at his ankles, coaxing him. He thought of the closing portal. Of his life until now.

For four, blessed years, he had had everything. A loving Mother, a caring Father, a tolerable (at times) Brother. For four more years, he had still known peace, united with his twin and his mother against the prejudice people heaped upon them.

Then, just like that, they had gone. What had he gained since then? What had he lived for?

Only himself. It had been enough. It had to be. Except…for those few brief minutes, when he and Vergil had fought together against Arkham, side by side…for the first time in so long, he had felt…complete. Whole again. Alive. He wanted to feel like that again.

_**I know what's important now. I know what I have to do. **_What did he have to lose?

He smirked bitterly, sheathed Rebellion, and set about strapping his Father's sword tightly to his back "This is taking 'I'd follow even into the depths of hell' a little too literally for my taste…" he muttered to himself "Ah well."

He marched resolutely to the very edge of the stone from which Vergil had jumped, and peered down into the pitch black. It didn't look very inviting. Still, it wasn't like he could turn back now.

"If he's not already dead, I'm going to _kill _him." He griped loudly, trying to drown the frantic beating of his heart "Making me go all 'heroic revelation'. Pfff. I don't do cliché."

He jumped. For a moment, he seemed to hang in midair, as though Hell was caught in indecision over whether it wanted to have him or not. But then gravity snatched him and dragged him down, pulling with such force that all the air was knocked from his lungs.

He fell for what seemed like hours, pressure tearing at his clothes and pulling at his skin. His bones rattled in the seemingly brittle shell of his flesh, and he gritted his teeth, hastily placing a hand over Ebony and Ivory, who were about to be ripped from their holsters. The pitch blackness pressed against his eyes oppressively, as though trying to swallow him up.

Finally, a hazy light filtered through the darkness, and he prepared himself for what was bound to be a rough welcoming committee. Sure enough, within a few seconds he had slammed into something hard with a sickening crunch.

He pulled a shuddering gulp of air into his lungs "Well, looks…like I found…the bottom!" he rasped, wheezily, trying to catch his breath "Or rather, my bottom found the bottom…owie…"

He rubbed indignantly at his bruised tailbone, complaining loudly, when he realized that there was something large, human shaped and blue between him and the floor below.

"Strange. I didn't expect the floor in hell to have cushioning…" He mused, shifting around to study the thing more closely.

The thing which had broken his fall stirred and groaned, then emitted what sounded like a muffled collection of curses. Dante couldn't help but grin like a madman. Not that he was relieved or anything, you understand.

&&&

**A/N: Poor Vergil! When you think about it, the weight of Dante plus two ridiculously large swords, ammo rounds, large boots and two guns wouldn't be something you wanted landing on you from an infinite height. Ouchies. **

**Sorry the chapter was so short! Nothing much happened, I know, but I felt the need to get inside Dante's head before sending him careering off the path of canon.**

**Please review, and I'll update sooner! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: (wails) You are all so LOVELY! (hands out free hugs) It's so great to get feedback. I'm glad you're all enjoying the story so far!**

**A warning, Dante's POV is slightly more…exuberant….than Vergil's. The man needs a swear-bucket if you ask me…ah well.**

**Chapter 3**

It will come as no surprise to hear that Vergil, who had been quite happily minding his own business (having just landed in the pit of deepest Hell, he had taken a few moments to get his bearings and his ribs back where they should be) was none too impressed when his already sore back was assaulted by a violent mass of younger brother.

Unable to express his dissatisfaction immediately due to the lack of air in his lungs, he settled for breathlessly cursing out everything from psychopathic clowns (Arkham) to God himself. So great was his anger that it took him a while to comprehend what, precisely, had just happened:

Revelation A: His ribs had just been broken for the second time in approximately 30 seconds.

Revelation B: Somebody was going to pay dearly for it.

Revelation C: Something large, heavy and possibly alive was lying on top of him.

Revelation D: The large, heavy and probably alive thing was complaining that it's butt hurt.

Revelation E: The large, heavy and almost definitely alive thing was, more than likely, Dante.

At which point Vergil's brain bombarded him with a stream of questions, threats, statements of fact and complaints. For a long moment, he was rendered numb and speechless in the aftermath of what seemed, to him, to be an impossible (not to mention very aggravating) turn of events.

"Get your heavy arse off me!" Thankfully, this particular state of mind didn't last long.

Dante, meanwhile, was smirking smugly down at his brother, thoroughly pleased with himself "Ahhh." He mused, as though he had only just realized what he was sitting on "So that's it. How's the weather down there, dear brother mine?"

Vergil's head whipped around, and he tried vainly to shift himself upwards. But apparently, a diet of nothing but pizza and strawberry sundaes has done Dante's weight few favours, and he slumped back down, breathing hard.

"Move, or I'll run you through!" he hissed, glaring daggers at Dante, who sighed dramatically.

"May I remind you that we've already been through this at some length?" he said nonchalantly, poking his fuming brother hard in the back of the head to emphasize his point "Remember? Dramatic drawn out fight scene? Me beating your whiny self?"

"Get.Off!" Vergil snarled, making another vain attempt to throw Dante off him, to no avail. His spine wasn't being to cooperative at the moment. Dante grinned, slamming an elbow between Vergil's shoulder blades and resting his chin on his hand. He practically reeked of arrogance.

"No way. If I get off, you might go jumping off another cliff or something." Dante nodded to himself mock-wisely, frowning "And then I'd have to bruise my delectable behind again, and that would just be a_ crime_ against womankind."

About to snap a retort, Vergil suddenly hesitated. Wait. This was all wrong. Not only should Dante most definitely _not _be sitting on him and refusing to get off, but more importantly, he shouldn't be here _at all._

"You followed me." He said, dumbly, and Dante blinked in surprise, thrown off by the sudden shift in his brother's tone. He recovered quickly, however, and shrugged unconcernedly.

Vergil couldn't bring himself to start thinking about the implications of Dante following him, and so did as he always did, and got straight to the point "Why did you do that?"

"I could ask the more interesting question of 'why did you jump', but I already know the answer to that."

"Dare I ask?"

"You jumped because you're a sore loser and a gargantuan idiot." Dante said, offhandedly, idly examining his nails "I followed because I'm bored, and it's too chilly up there. I'm nice and toasty warm now."

Vergil stared incredulously at him, frowning, lost for words. Dante took his brother's silence as an opportunity to take a proper look at the surroundings. They were lying on what seemed to be some kind of liquid that was so dense it could support the entirety of their weight. Here and there little whirlpools of the stuff had formed, spiraling lazily downwards, oozing into whatever lay below. The liquid was a deep crimson colour. Blood?

The place resembled a ruined graveyard. Enormous pinnacles of broken, jagged rock rose out of the liquid like tombstones. Dante recognized what looked like a giant, broken off wing, carved in stone. It certainly resembled what Hell was supposed to look like. And God, did it _smell _like it.

"Nice scenery." He commented sarcastically "Love the pulsating pools of ominous congealed blood. Very retro. Lovely décor."

Vergil, who did not appreciate his brother's odd sense of humour, resignedly groused "Are you going to get off me?"

Dante narrowed his eyes "Are you going to jump off any more cliffs?"

"**NO**!" Vergil ground out forcefully through gritted teeth, managing to suppress the urge to beat his hands against the floor and throw a tantrum like a child. Dante often had that effect on him. It was a fraternal thing. Or maybe Dante was just infuriating.

"Jeeeeez, don't get your knickers in a twist." Dante rolled his eyes and began to shift himself "I'm moving."

He stood up and stretched, rolling his shoulders, and laced his fingers before throwing them up above his head. His knuckles popped loudly and his spine made a nasty cracking noise as the vertebrae moved apart. Dante let out a long, slow, contented breath and smiled. Vergil flinched visibly and shot his twin a disgusted look.

"You never answered the question." he muttered, wincing as he sat up and probed his rapidly healing, but still bruised ribs "why did you follow me?"

"Yes I did. I told you, it's chill-"

"Bullshit."

Dante blinked, and stared at Vergil in surprise. It wasn't like Vergil to swear. Not like that, out of the blue. He glanced down at his brother, to find Vergil looking at him with a calculating and slightly apprehensive expression. It was exactly the face Vergil used to make back when they were young, when Dante was about to do something stupid (which was unsurprisingly often). He sighed.

"I hesitated." He muttered, and when Vergil looked puzzled, he reluctantly elaborated "Hung around too long. I wouldn't have made it back in time for the portal, not with you nicking one half of the amulet. So."

There was an awkward silence. Neither brother dared to look at the other. They were both thinking about the same thing: the reason. The obvious reason why Dante had hesitated, why he hadn't simply turned and run for it.

"I…" Vergil swallowed, and cleared his throat "I apologize."

Dante whipped about to look at him, astounded "What the hell for?" He blurted out "No pun intended. Well, maybe a little one."

Vergil clambered to his feet before answering "When I took my half of the amulet, I didn't consider you getting back. I didn't want you trapped here."

Dante was not quite sure how he should react to this. For the first time in a long time, he felt out of place and awkward. His face couldn't seem to arrange itself into an expression. Vergil had always been able to do that. Surprise him.

Finally, he settled on reacting like his obnoxious, arrogant self "Aw, Vergy, now I feel all warm and fuzzy!" He exclaimed, forcing a mock-tearful expression onto his face "Gimme a hug!"

Vergil hastily backed away "Idiot. I didn't want you here so I wouldn't have the displeasure of your obnoxious presence. Nothing more."

Dante grinned. He thought he saw something move in the corner of his eye, but dismissed it "Whatever. You-" He froze, and stared as something blindingly bright whipped through the air like a bullet, heading straight for his brother's turned back "Vergil MOVE!"

"Wha-!" Before Vergil knew what had hit him he was once again slammed violently to the ground for the third time that day. Luckily, however, the thing that had collided with him was Dante, who had shoved them both out of harms way, and not the bullet-thing.

Vergil would have exploded at his brother, if his nose hadn't been inches away from a sizzling hole in the floor where the projectile had impacted, right where he had just been standing.

"Oopsie." Dante breathed, eyes whipping around, searching "Close one that was."

Vergil looked upwards, and saw three large red orbs high above them, crackling with a powerful dark energy. His stomach turned over, and he rounded on Dante "Why didn't you tell me Mundus was here?!"

Dante glanced upwards also "Where? All I see are three hot-pink disco lights. Fancy some karaoke?"

Vergil felt like beating his head against a nearby pillar "That is the LORD OF HELL you brain-dead degenerate!" he roared, shaking with fury, wondering just what he had done in his past life to deserve such a dim-witted twin brother.

Dante patted him consolingly on the head "Watch your blood pressure, Grandpa." He muttered, glaring disbelievingly up at the now descending red orbs "Those three floating pink things are the Prince of Darkness?"

The orbs crackled ominously, and Dante just couldn't resist "Well, who'da thunk it. OI! MUNDUS!" he yelled "YA MIGHT WANT TO RE-THINK THE COLOUR SCHEME DOWN HERE! RED IS **SO** LAST SEASON!"

"Sons of Sparda!" a deep, cold, hoarse voice rebounded about the landscape, making the very foundations of stone shake "You will pay dearly for your foolishness!"

Dante grinned defiantly even as his hand drifted towards Ebony and Ivory "Aw, shit, I didn't bring any change." He glanced at his brother "How about you, Vergy?"

Vergil gave him the sort of look an environmentalist would give a rabbit hunter "I hate you so much right now."

"Right back at ya."

Vergil wrapped a hand around Yamato's hilt "_Don't _get in my way." He raised his head, glaring levelly at the being which was Mundus "It should be fun to fight with the Prince of Darkness." He unsheathed Yamato with a flourish "If my Father did it, I should be able to do it too!"

And he charged. Dante swore and hastily drew Ebony and Ivory, yelling out indignantly:

"Hey! What about me?"

&&&

**A/N: Gotta love the brotherly banter. I love writing Vergil and Dante, they're so different they can annoy the hell out of each other. It's great fun!**

**IMPORTANT: The next chapter may be a little time in coming, as I'm not very familiar with how Dante and Vergil fight. Right now my only source of information is the fabulous Youtube. Anyone with any tips, help would be appreciated!**

**Please, please PLEASE continue to review! Your comments mean so much to me! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Many thanks to you all for your help in the fighting styles! The information was very useful! I'm still not overly confident, but I'll try my best to write the fight scene well.**

**Okay, since I have no idea how to describe any of the 'magical' attacks Mundus uses, for now he'll just use brute force, okie dokie? Forgive my incompetence.**

**Chapter 4**

Vergil skidded to an abrupt halt, and Dante, who had been in hot pursuit, slammed into his back. Not at all pleased that his heroic charge had been interrupted, Dante demanded of his brother:

"The fuck! Why did you stop? Never heard of momentum?"

In answer, Vergil simply pointed upwards. Dante followed his gaze, and his eyes widened. He let out a low whistle. "Ooh boy."

The three orbs had converged on each other, forming a giant, pulsating vortex of dark energy. Like a deformed embryo, it contorted itself, and something seemed to be struggling to free itself inside. Neither brother moved, attention fixated on the giant structure, waiting.

Eventually, an enormous, pale hand was flung upwards from the centre of the vortex, followed by an armour-plated arm. Slowly, Mundus' true form rose from the dark energy, absorbing it. An immense heat seemed to emanate from the being, which resembled an enormous winged knight. The thing's face, what was visible of it, anyway, was contorted with malice.

"Dude." Dante breathed, trying to ignore the raw power being projected at him in waves "That is so not playing fair."

"Do you ever shut up?" Vergil asked, irritably, shooting Dante a hateful look. It was obvious, however, that Vergil was intimidated by their new foe, despite appearances.

"Nope." Dante said, proudly, puffing out his chest and maintaining an arrogant air. Although he didn't care to admit it, he was unsure that facing Mundus right now was a good idea. Neither he nor Vergil were at their best, having battled through countless challenges with little rest over the last few hours.

None of this stopped them recklessly taking him on anyway, however. It wasn't like they had a choice.

Vergil made the first move. Focusing all his concentration on the task at hand (and not the wise little voice in his head which coolly informed him that he should be running away very very very fast) his eyes flitted across every aspect of Mundus, searching, trying to find a weakness. The eyes, half concealed behind an enormous, jewel encrusted helmet, shone with dark energy. The source of his power, Vergil concluded.

"Aim for the eyes!" He ordered over his shoulder, already charging towards the enemy's enormous feet (as that was the only part of him Vergil could see without craning his neck). He vaguely heard Dante yell something at him, but didn't bother to listen, his attention consumed with the task of avoiding the orbs of dark energy flying towards him.

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING! I SAID WATCH OUT FOR THE-"

One of Mundus' feet seemed to fly out of nowhere, slamming into Vergil's stomach with tremendous force, tossing him high up into the air like a rag doll. He cursed, and twisted neatly in the air, managing to land on his feet rather than his head.

"Ooh, nasty." Dante commented sarcastically, casually resting Rebellion on his right shoulder "Still overly keen to describe this as 'fun', Vergil? Need a hand?"

"Not from _you._" Vergil said, delicately, controlling his temper, his tone icy "Not from _anybody._"

He detested relying on others. He always had. If he depended always on nothing but his own strength, then he had nobody but himself to blame for the consequences. That was the way he liked it. No complications, no responsibilities.

Dante was giving him an affronted look "Well sor-" the foot descended again, swinging between them with a heavy hissing noise. Dante cursed and leapt awkwardly one way, while Vergil performed a calculated jump the other.

"Shit." Dante, incensed, bellowed up at Mundus: "Can't you see we're BUSY down here!"

His answer was the same foot slamming downwards, trying to crush him, and Vergil smiled sardonically as he watched Dante barely roll in time to avoid it "Apparently not." He murmured, preparing to charge again "Excuse me."

He was yanked back mid-step by the collar, and abruptly shoved aside "Oh no you don't." Dante growled through a clenched jaw "You had your go, it's my turn." Vergil was reminded ridiculously of two small twins fighting over whose turn it was to play with a toy car. Except toy cars didn't try to kick your brains out. Speaking of which…

"Besides, you need to re-arrange your innards." Dante muttered, drawing Ebony and Ivory faster than the eye could blink and emptying a huge amount of bullets into Mundus' armour plated torso.

It had absolutely no effect whatsoever. Not even a scratch.

"I'm astounded, Dante." Vergil sneered, as Dante continued to fire amid much swearing and frustrated noises "That attack was even less successful than I suspected it to be."

"Give it a rest, fancy-pants!" Dante heatedly retorted "at least I actually hit him! Your pansy-ass attack didn't do anything! I don't know how you manage to ever deal any damage, waltzing around like a ballerina-"

"I know how to control my power, unlike you!" Vergil snapped back, colour rising to his pale cheeks "You should never reveal the true extent of your power unless necessary! You fight like a bull, charging about blindly without a thought!"

"At least I _win _every once in a while!"

"WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO-"

"YOU BORE ME, HALF BREED VERMIN!" Mundus crowed from on high, his words resounding about the ancient stone ruins and making the ground shake "Your pathetic Father was at least a match for-"

"**SHUT UP**!" Vergil and Dante bellowed in unison, exchanging a look of purest loathing with each other. There was a long, echoing moment of silence as each twin glared hard at the other, breathing heavily. Finally, Vergil spun to address Mundus.

"If I recall, Mundus, our 'pathetic' Father defeated you."

"Yeah, bitch!" Dante taunted, itching to work off his fury. "So shut your homo-girly mouth!"

"Such eloquence."

"That's me: crude, yet effective."

"Crude, maybe."

Dante opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as a huge hand swept down and closed painfully around his body. Protesting violently he was jerked up to a dizzying height, his head feeling as heavy as a stone, his spine burning. The jerk must have snapped his neck.

Blood rushed to his head as he gained coherency, and immediately started fighting against the enormous fingers trapping him immobile "Ouch! Hey! Let go of me, you three-eyed freak!" He was jerked again so he was now at an angle, hanging practically upside down, and he yelled in the general direction of the ground "Vergil! I'm being molested by a giant sex-confused demon!"

Dante couldn't be sure, but he was pretty sure the blurry blue figure that was Vergil was smirking "And just what do you expect me to do about it?"

"Silence, scum!" Mundus roared, and Dante winced. Every bone in his body was shuddering under the pressure of Mundus' grasp, his heart aching with the effort of forcing blood to flow "Surrender, or I shall crush this insect till his marrow spills from his bones!"

"That doesn't sound too pleasant." Vergil said conversationally. Mundus' hold on Dante tightened, and his torso made a horrible creaking, cracking noise. For the first time Dante abandoned all pretence and cried out in pain, biting hard down on his lip.

"Please, Vergil, just stab him." He ground out, eyes tightly shut, the pain increasing tenfold. Blinding stabs of bright light filled his vision, and he groaned. Maybe he _could _die. Who knew? There was no record of a half-demon half-human dying or not to prove either way.

"I intend to." At the sound of his brother's voice Dante felt a shameful relief, and braced himself. A rush of air glanced against his brow and a soft hiss filled the air, and he caught a familiar smell of leather and coppery steel.

There was an almighty blood curdling roar of pain so loud that Dante felt as though his ear drums had been nailed into his brain, and then he was falling. The fingers around him fell away and his body immediately began to heal, but he couldn't summon the energy to open his eyes and improve his landing.

Unexpectedly, he was snatched in mid-air by the collar, spun neatly and placed on unsteady feet. He shook his head to dispel the fog clogging up his brain, and just managed to catch sight of the tail of a blue coat before glancing hastily the other way, trying to work out what had happened.

"Hey, Mundus." Vergil said smugly from behind him, and he turned "Need a hand?"

Mundus was still bellowing with pain, clutching the jagged stump that was the remains of his right wrist. In the tiny space between the end of his arm-guard and the beginning of his gauntlet, Yamato's blade had cut a clean and deadly path. Blood gushed from the wound in torrents, and beside Vergil lay the crippled, limply disfigured form of Dante's captor. It was an impressive sight.

"What are you trying to do, defeat him with bad puns?" Dante demanded, rounding unrepentantly on his brother. Vergil raised an eyebrow with a wry expression.

"You're welcome." He said sarcastically, before his features darkened "Now get serious, Dante. No more idiotic mistakes. Or we will be defeated."

"Relax." Dante said soothingly, ego thoroughly unscathed "We can handle this primped-up pussy. Look at him, wailing like a little girl."

"Salutations, my little Sparda fledglings!" squawked a painfully familiar voice "I heard a rumour half-breeds are going buy one get one free!"

The brother's whirled about, to see a ridiculous figure clothed in brightly coloured clown clothes grinning grotesquely at them with a lopsided mouth.

Arkham's alias stood upon the top of a pillar high above them, surrounded by a seething mass of demons. He emitted a high-pitched cackle, spasming with glee, hopping from one foot to the other before bowing deeply "The Jester, at your most delectable service."

"Not this arsehole again." Dante exclaimed, and shuddered deeply. This guy gave him the _creeps. _Not only that, but his arrival was a significant blow. Now they had a fight on _two _fronts. Why did things he killed _never _stay dead?

"I think a re-evaluation of the situation is in order, Dante." Vergil stated, matter-of-factly, surveying the group of demons with a keen, calculating gaze "I have a score to settle with Arkham. I shall temporarily leave Mundus to you." He was clearly about as happy about this as Dante was, but there was no help for it. Two fights, two twins. Not much argument there. "Try to stay alive – and retain just a little dignity and decorum."

"Dignity? I'm all about it!" Despite his bravado, Dante was not particularly eager to face Mundus alone. But if he had learnt anything along the way that life had brought him, it was that overwhelming odds needn't be overwhelming; all the crap fate tossed him he always tossed right back.

He eyed Arkham and his pack of cronies (well, pack was a tender sort of term – more like ravaging horde) and jerked his head to Vergil "Sure you can handle all that extra shit?"

Vergil snorted derisively, and brandished Yamato at Arkham "I'll do my part; you do yours."

Without another word, they turned their backs on each other and charged in opposite directions, each wondering just how much longer they could keep this up.

What felt like hours passed. The endless monotony and constant flow of violence wore against them. It was an unsaid agreement that neither brother intruded or even glanced at the other fight. Banter had no place here, between life and death.

Dante felt himself grow detached, and ceased to think, relying purely on animalistic instinct to guide his body. It felt…strange. His head was going numb, his mind spinning in emptiness, removed from the battle and the noise and the stench of blood. Faced with the constant onslaught of impending death, the reality of it slipped away. Jump, parry, strike, roll, jump, parry again, fire a couple of rounds. He felt like he had made no progress; and Mundus certainly was showing no signs of tiring.

"Damn it." He panted, skidding backwards having just avoided a wayward energy orb. He was now on the edge of the swarm of demons; Vergil's plane "This isn't going so well." Something backed into him and somehow, without so much as a glance, he knew it was his twin "How you doing over here?"

"These-bloody-things-just-won't-DIE!" Vergil gritted out, slashing and hacking at the nearest demons with a gracelessness which did not suit him. He was exhausted; Dante could hear it in his voice, and he became suddenly aware of how his own limbs shook with fatigue.

He heard Vergil cry out suddenly, and he snapped his head round to see that Jester had crept up behind his brother and dealt him such a deep blow to the back that it had surely severed his spine. Vergil managed to stagger backwards, arched double with pain, and Jester screeched in triumph and danced on the spot.

"Gotcha, gotcha, Jester got you, Sparda Ratling!"

They were getting careless. Running out of strength.

"Stop being a coward, Arkham, and face me in a fair fight!"

But even if they could retreat, where could they run? There was no way back now.

"Now, now, now Vergikins! Why make it just the two of us when we can have all these playmates as well?"

Daaaaamn, he needed a drink. _I'm going to die. _And some pizza. _I'm going to die. _With cheese. _I'm going to die. _And pepperoni slices. _I'm going to die. _And a strawberry sundae for dessert. _I __**won't **__die. I can't. _

Dante gathered all that remained of his strength and stood tall, turning his back on Mundus and impossible odds to stand side by side with his brother "Need some help?"

Of course, what he wanted to say (but neither of them wanted to admit it) was 'We need some help.'

Vergil frowned at him "Haven't you got your own prob-" his eyes widened, looking at a point beyond his brother's shoulder "Dante, behind-!"

There was a deep, sudden impact in his chest. It didn't hurt, not really. It was just uncomfortable. He looked down, and saw the splintered, jagged end of Jester's staff protruding from the left side of his chest. Huh. But if it was sticking out, that meant it was also sticking in…

He felt suddenly choked. The blood was freezing in his veins, the tattered remains of his heart fluttering faintly, unable to heal around the staff embedded in its centre. He was drowning. A great pressure was building in his head, his lungs were on fire, he couldn't breathe, couldn't think-

"You are defeated, Sons of Sparda! Time to end your miserable lives!"

Put a stake through the heart, like a vampire. Who'd have thought it would be that simple? He was fairly sure he was falling to the ground. He could see nothing but red and back, spiraling into deep, pitch darkness. Wait. Blue. A wrench in his chest. A tickling sensation. Vergil's voice. Not words. Just sounds. Horrible sounds. Horrible. Vergil.

'_Shit.' _He thought, then nothingness.

&&&

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait! I went out last Monday and bought myself a playstation 2, controller, memory card, Kingdom Hearts and Devil May Cry 3! (KH because I figured I should practice on an easier game). So I've been pretty much playing non-stop!**

**I personally prefer playing as Vergil on DMC3; he's easier to control. But Dante's more fun. Hee. Yelling. Blam blam blam! (makes dorky gun gestures)**

**Hope the length of the chapter made up for the wait! Please continue to review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: My sincerest apologies, dear readers! (sorry Vergil, nicked your phrase, please don't hurt me) I unexpectedly went away for two days to good ol' Dorset. Yeeeah. Exciting (NOT). And then my big bro hijacked the computer from me and BROKE it. ARGH. **

**Anyway, I'll shut up now and let you continue reading! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 5**

_Drip. _

_Drip. Drip._

The first thing Dante became aware of was pain. Lots of it. A whole load of it. Yep, that was some pain. In fact, as far as he could remember, this was just about the most physical pain his body had felt in a while. Being half-demon, half-human, there was a limit to his healing ability. Of course, he had never bothered to discover just how far he could push himself before actually _dying._

And didn't ever plan to, unfortunately for science.

He heard a deep, wheezy groaning noise, and realized it was coming from his own throat. Woah. Was the floor spinning or what? The ground was tipping violently from side to side, swaying in a sickening way which made his stomach turn. Plus, there was a fuzzy feeling in his head that was fogging up his brain, which was sort of like being drunk only less _fun._

He shook his head and managed to raise his right arm in order to rub clumsily at his face. Ugh. His limbs felt like lead, and his entire body ached with a deep exhaustion he had not felt in years.

After gathering his scattered wits into what resembled consciousness (roughly), he managed to force his un-cooperative eyes opens. Oh man. There was a big pale white blur and a big dark blur around it. Uh huh. Right. Well this was just _great. _He blinked vigorously, and slowly his vision sharpened.

For a moment, he thought he was staring into a particularly distorted mirror. His own familiar features swam in and out of focus: same nose, same mouth, same face shape. Yup. Must be his reflection. Except…he didn't remember ever being that pale. And that hair was too long.

Then he realized that while his eyes were, quite obviously, open, his reflection was not looking back at him.

"Shit!" and suddenly, he was bolt upright and alert. He seized his twin by the shoulders, his hands ignoring his dignity, the only thought in his mind being that his brother was far too pale and possiblymaybedeadohGod "Vergil, wake up!"

Vergil's head lolled backwards limply, and for one nauseating moment Dante thought his brother wasn't breathing. But then he saw that his twin's eyes were stirring beneath their lids, and that he could hear the rough rattle of an intake of breath. At which point, all trace of concern vanished from Dante's disposition. Concern? What concern? Dante? For _him? _Dante concerned for Vergil? You're mistaken. That was quite blatantly selfish aggravation. Nothing more. Nope.

Once he had re-assured himself that his manly (completely fuzzy-fraternal-feelings lacking) pride was relatively unscathed, Dante set about tactfully bringing Vergil back to the waking world:

"Wake UP you lazy bastard!"

Well, he brought him back, anyway.

"Dammit, Vergil, this is no time for a freakin' nap!" he ground out through gritted teeth, shaking Vergil so hard he could have sworn he could hear his twin's bones rattle. He was just (rather gleefully) contemplating slapping Vergil awake when a hand shot out of nowhere and shoved him away, hard.

"Don't...touch me!" Vergil struggled upright, clutching his head "And stop…shouting." He blinked rapidly, glared at Dante, then looked about them "Where are we?"

Dante glanced upwards, squinting. They were deeply immersed in an odd sort of semi-darkness, where despite the fact no light source was visible, allowed them about five feet of vision. From what Dante could make out they were in a large circular- no, octagonal – chamber carved completely from stone. The stone was deep ebony black, and had a rough texture rather like granite. Eight enormous archways filled the entirety of the room's perimeter, separated by thin columns which appeared to be made up of an assortment of skulls.

Dante whistled softly, and the noise echoed back eight fold from beyond the archways "Hell if I know." He muttered, then smirked "Actually…it must just be that. Hell, I mean."

He chuckled to himself, but Vergil made no response. He was absorbed with studying their surroundings intently, his keen eyes narrowed, noting every detail. He had always done that, even as a small child, whenever confronted with something unfamiliar. Vergil was cautious and distrustful by nature. Dante supposed it was because his brother absolutely _hated _not being in control, and so the slightest infamiliarity made him feel threatened. It was sort of…animalistic. Instinctive. Demonic, even.

"Hey." Dante struck up, and Vergil shot him a sideways glance "You think we lucked out and somehow ended up getting away? There's nothin' about."

Had Vergil been less on his guard and more irritable, he would have responded with a snide remark, but instead just shook his head "I don't like this." He murmured, eying each archway with a narrowed gaze "Something doesn't feel right."

"No shit." Dante snorted, and right on cue his stomach growled "I haven't eaten a pizza for five hours."

For the sake of world peace, Vergil chose to ignore his brother's stupidity and focused on studying the room further. The fact that no matter where he turned his back was facing a doorway made him immeasurably uneasy. He could not see what lay beyond each archway – the darkness was too thick for that – so he risked inching closer to one of the skull columns.

"Would you stop being so jittery? You're making me feel paranoid just _looking_ at you."

Closer now, he could see that the skulls seemed to be from a variety of different creatures. Some human, some horribly disfigured, one that looked like a goat with a horn. Some kind of unnatural congealed liquid oozed in the crevices. A foul smell was beginning to fill the room, an acrid smell like sulphur. Vergil reached out to touch the column.

"Oooh, naughty naughty, Vergy-boy! Didn't your dear Mother ever teach you lookie but no touchie?"

A jubilantly gleeful voice cut through the quiet like a bullet. Vergil snatched his hand back as though it had been stung, and whirled around to see Dante on his feet, tense and thoroughly pissed.

"C'mon, show your ugly mug you cowardly bastard!" Dante yelled at the blackness, to howls of raucous laughter. Dante seethed and muttered under his breath, while Vergil frantically scanned the darkness for the rogue Jester.

"What is this place? Where are we?" he demanded of the archway opposite him, where he thought Jester's voice had come from.

"Now, now, now, my little Sparda ratlings! If I told you that it would spoil all the _fun._"

Vergil searched every inch of space, but could find no trace of Arkham. His disembodied voice seemed to be coming from all around them, fluctuating in and out of hearing range like some kind of broken record. Dante, incensed that he couldn't see Arkham (and therefore couldn't violently maul him like he so desperately wanted to) slammed his fist into a nearby pillar.

"Quit screwing AROUND!" he roared, and Vergil sighed quietly as the Jester's derisive laughter only served to anger Dante further.

"Temper, temper, littlest twinlet. If you could control your delicious frustration for just a teeeeeeeny while I will tell you the rules of our game."

"Game?" Vergil snapped abruptly, halting in his agitated movements, trying to calm his pounding heart. He didn't like this. It was too dark, and his enemy was nowhere to be seen. He could feel the beginnings of panic settling like heavy shroud in his chest, choking him. He swallowed thickly.

"I've had just about enough of all this _crap._" Dante hissed, and Vergil started, startled to find his brother a lot closer than he thought he was. This was disturbing, because Vergil prided himself on sensing the presence of others, friend or foe. Not that he had any friends. Dante was practically back-to-back with him, but Vergil was sure he was not doing it consciously. Maybe his twin's instincts simply told him Vergil's back was less threat than an empty archway.

He usually knew instantly when someone (or something) approached him, but somehow…Dante had slipped under his radar, undetected…and his presence was far from threatening. In fact, he felt the weight in his chest lift and a cool relief settled his thoughts. It seemed Dante had forgotten that just hours before, they had been mortal enemies. It was almost comforting.

He had forgotten what it was like to not have to watch your back; to trust that someone else would do it for you. He drew a shaky breath and wrapped a hand about Yamato's hilt, the room seeming suddenly a lot less dark. He blinked, then sneered inwardly at his thoughts. _I must have hit my head harder than I thought._ Here, now, Dante was his ally. That was all.

"Yes, you see, the illustrious Lord Mundus has granted me the honour of toughening you up ready for the _scolding _you will no doubt receive from him later-"

There was a flash of blue in the corner of Vergil's vision, but before he could move Dante had sprung out, Rebellion swinging in a powerful arc. It hit the floor with an empty, echoing clang.

"Missed me, missed me!" Jester crowed, and this time Vergil caught the vague outline of a pair of dancing feet "My, my; did your parents not teach you boys to be polite to your hosts?"

The silence was deafening.

"Then again…I guess they didn't!" Vergil could feel Dante shaking with fury, could practically hear his brother's teeth grinding, but he himself felt…nothing. Just that familiar suffocating cold in his lungs. No anger. "It's so hard to grow up without a Daddy's influence, isn't it? You poor little fledglings probably never felt the proper sting of discipline. Allow me to show you!"

Something whipped past inches from Vergil's nose, and he heard Dante's grunt of pain seconds before a burning stab of pain seared across his face. He felt the thin cut immediately begin to heal, but felt sickened as fresh blood drooled down his face. A thin slip of paper was drifting slowly towards the ground in front of him, and he snatched it from the air. It was a card. A playing card, stained red along one edge with his blood. His lip curled as the eyed the image upon it.

Black Joker.

"Bastard-!" Dante spat, tossing his own card (a Red Joker, Vergil noted with a frown) away carelessly. Great. Now they were being given mocking metaphors by a demented _clown_. Could this day get any worse?

"Ooh, we're going to have to do something about that potty mouth of yours too, I see! But I'll save that for later. First, the game must BEGIN!"

He really shouldn't have asked.

"Ladies, gentlemen and half-breed scum, if you will cast your eye upon the room you are in you will see eight archways." Jester flitted from archway to archway, gesticulating enthusiastically as he spoke. Vergil and Dante pivoted on the spot, tensed. "Two lead to oblivion, two to suffering, two to unbearable suffering, one to nowhere and one to salvation."

Odds of success: one out of eight. Approximately twelve percent. And that was assuming the rules were sincere, which considering they were in Hell, was highly unlikely. Vergil scowled as he concluded, in no uncertain terms, that the likelihood of their wellbeing remaining positive was extremely low. Or, as Dante would put it, that they were screwed.

"What say we skip the formalities and I kill you now?" Vergil ground out, unsheathing Yamato with a flourish and brandishing it in an encompassing arc. Dante shouldered Rebellion, just barely missing decapitating Vergil, who growled "Cut the bullshit, Arkham! We don't have time for your twisted games."

"Did I mention there's a time limit?" There was a creak of something which sounded like chains, a groan of stone grinding on stone, and a shower of dust made both brother's splutter and choke. Looking up, Vergil saw a large contraption had descended from the ceiling. Two translucent glass bulbs displayed some kind of powdery substance. Vergil's eyes widened. An hourglass.

A sharp-fingered, gloved hand hit one end of the hourglass' bulbs, and it swung back and forth, then settled with the full bulb facing downwards. Immediately, sand (or whatever the powder was – it was a little pale to be sand) began to trickle lazily into the lower bulb with a soft hissing sound "Escape before the top glass is empty and you're relatively free to go. Fail and…well…" Vergil caught sight of a flash of pearly white teeth in the blackness "use your imaginations!"

"You-" Dante began, but Jester cut across him. "Tittle tattle, lost the battle! No time for dilly dally, time is running out! Oh, by the way. I thought you could use a preliminary challenge to get you in the mood. Something really _special._"

Jester snapped his thin fingers, and there came a distant echo of movement. Dante shifted his weight and rested Rebellion's tip against the ground "I don't like the sound of that." He murmured, clearly agitated.

"Shut up. I'm listening." Vergil snapped at him, straining all his senses, focused intently on listening for the oncoming 'preliminary challenge'. They were boxed in; surrounded. Not good.

Dante rested one hand on his hip and snorted, recklessly unconcerned "Listening? Listening to what?! Don't tell me you brought a CD player of evil villain music to keep in the mood!"

Vergil, as usual, was not impressed with his brother's theatrics "Surprisingly, no." He said dryly, and was about to elaborate when he managed to identify a distinctive sound among the clattering and echoes coming from the archways "Do you hear it?"

"Hear what?" Dante's brow furrowed. All he could hear was the far off bustle of movement, the occasional clang. Wait. Something else. A soft undercurrent, a delicate rustle, as though something was _slithering _along the ground. And a quiet chorus of hissing.

"Oh no." He said, backing up, before realizing he was completely surrounded "Oh, no, no, no, no, NO!" he gritted his teeth, heart pumping painfully fast, ignoring Vergil's smirk entirely and beginning to panic "Anything but that. No. This isn't fucking _happening_."

"Haven't gotten over that little Snake phobia of yours, then, Dante?" Vergil said pleasantly, emanating smugness, to which Dante responded with an eloquent:

"Fuck.You."

"Ooh, yes, of course!" Dammit. Arkham was still here. "Wittle Dante doesn't like slinky snakies now, does he? Poor ittle wittle Sparda ratling! Well, you're in luck. These are Chimera demon breeds: cross breeds between species, just like you. I like to call them Medusa Demons. One of my own personal creations, you know."

Vergil snorted derisively, unfazed by the increase in volume of the hissing sound "Ridiculous! You think _snakes _are going to pose a threat to- "

"Get em away from me!" Dante slammed into Vergil's back, sending him tottering sideways, off balance "Ugh! No! Stay back, you spawn of Satan!" he shuddered visibly, clutching Rebellion so tightly his knuckles had turned white "Ew!"

Vergil watched Dante spazz out for all of three seconds, before raising a hand and smacking his brother hard across the back of the head "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother trying."

"Have fuuuuuuuuuun!" Jester crooned, his voice fading off into the sixth passage "Oh, and just a little snag: seems Medusa Demon venom is the sort of nasty substance which not even other demons can heal from." Vergil snarled as he saw a pale hand wave a jovial goodbye "Better watch out! Ta ta now!"

The quiet stretched, Dante breathing heavily, the hissing growing louder and louder.

"I fucking hate that clown."

"Seconded."

&&&

**A/N: And finally, we get to the angst and the torture! Woot! (punches air) This took a lot longer than expected. Apologies again for the wait! Oh yeah, anyone with any tips on how to get past level 3 of DMC3, HELP! (yes, I suck)**

**IMPORTANT: As of Monday, I'm back to school (weeps) so updates are likely to be slower. But fear not, dear readers! I shall not abandon ye!**

**Please review! Oh yeah; who do you think should be tortured more: Vergil or Dante?**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm BACK! Guh. Whoever invented higher education should be hung, drawn and quartered. Honestly. How am I supposed to wallow in my obsessive fandom cravings if I have homework? Egads…**

**Anyway. Please enjoy!**

**Chapter 6**

The departure of Jester made their situation less aggravating, but no less perilous. Granted, they could now concentrate on fighting rather than on tearing apart the hateful clown, but the so called 'preliminary challenge' Arkham had left them was formidable.

The Medusa demons were not simply snakes; they looked more like some kind of cross between a dragon and a lizard, their bodies covered with serrated, razor sharp scales which rippled and glinted in the dim light. They dragged themselves languidly on stubby legs, their bellies scraping along the ground and making a nasty screeching noise.

"Snakes." Dante groaned aggressively, his hold on Rebellion tightening "Why did it have to be snakes? Why not spiders? Spiders are cute, with their little hairy legs and the beady eyes…"

Vergil gave him an incredulous look, and he swallowed thickly, heart beating painfully fast, cold sweat trickling down his neck "on second thought, bunny rabbits. I would've definitely preferred bunny rabbits."

"Speak for yourself." Vergil said coldly, grimacing, repulsed as he was by all things cute and fluffy. Personally, he'd rather take on the entirety of Hell. Speaking of which…

He eyed the creatures' slitted crimson eyes and bared fangs with composed disdain, standing perfectly still, waiting patiently for the boldest of the creatures to strike. Despite the fact that slaying the things wouldn't be too much of a challenge, he was a little concerned about the sheer numbers which they were pitted against.

A steady stream of the demons swarmed from every archway, closing in, surrounding them. Vergil pursed his lips and pressed his back inadvertently closer to Dante's. He would have to trust that his brother would guard him from one of the Demon's taking a bite out of his back.

Which was unfortunate, because he harbored severe doubts that Dante was aware of anybody but himself at the moment.

"Then again, they could have been evil demonic albino bunny rabbits." Dante rambled on, trying desperately to bury his panic by distracting himself "Y'know, like the ones in that old movie, with the glowy red eyes and the fangs? Man, they were creepy-"

"Dante, you're babbling." Vergil stated testily, clearly unamused by Dante's lack of verbal control "Desist."

"Or maybe even Reaper demons." Dante blundered on, his hands beginning to shake violently "Anything. Anything _other _than snakes…I don't wanna die in the belly of an evil demonic python!" adrenaline flooded his senses, screaming at him to run "Besides, I'd taste terrible, and I'd be really hard to digest, me being stubborn and all –OW!"

He clapped a hand to the back of his head and looked over his shoulder, to see Vergil holding Yamato aloft, looking quite pleased with himself. From the large bruise that was rapidly healing and the throbbing in the back of his skull Dante correctly deduced that his brother had whacked him with Yamato's handle.

Momentarily, his fear vanished in the wake of his fury "What the Hell was that for!"

"For being an idiot." Vergil muttered distractedly, then pointed at the Medusa Demon which had opened it's mouth wide to take a chunk out of Dante's foot "Oh, look, Dante, I think that one _likes _you."

"Die in a hole!" Dante spat, hastily stomping on the demon's neck "That goes for you too, Slinky!" he then sliced its head off with a quick downward strike, grabbing the severed head in one hand and glaring at it. His eyes widened when the decapitated head continued to hiss, flexing its jaw and baring its fangs threateningly "What the-"

"Hey Vergil…" he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, holding the head gingerly at arms length as it continued to writhe in his grip "This decapitated snake head is trying to eat me." He blinked and frowned "That's just weird."

While Dante mused, Vergil dispatched the nearest group of demons with some well executed maneuvers. Next to Dante's foot, the stump of the Medusa demon's severed neck began to glow with dark energy.

"Although I admire it's perseverance." Dante commented, completely oblivious to the three snake heads that were now growing grotesquely from the severed neck "Stubborn like me, you know? I almost like this little guy."

"You astound me, Dante." Vergil said wryly, sheathing Yamato and summoning his dark magic swords to dispatch some of the stragglers "I wouldn't advise cutting off their heads, by the by."

"Why?" Dante glanced down, to find that once harmless body of the Medusa Demon was rearing up, three sets of fangs bared viciously "JesusGodandHolyGhost! That…it…what the HELL?"

"That's why."

"Alright then, genius, what am I supposed to do? Stomp on them?" Dante proceeded to do just that, jumping up and down on the demon's three necks "Down, boy!" he eyed the six narrowed crimson eyes glaring up at him "Y'know, they're almost cute when you look closely. I think I'll call him Stumpy."

Thankfully, Vergil did not hear this particular oddity, engaged as he was with the horde of Demons which seemed only eager to get a piece of _him. _Dante, it seemed, was beneath their interest unless he attacked them. Why was that?

"We got our tetanus shots, right?"

"Will you shut up and just kill the damn things!"

"Aw, fuck. I forgot, we're on a time limit!"

At which point, Dante thankfully ceased gossiping and got down to some (less enthusiastic than usual) business. The battle was long and tedious; the Medusa demons only truly died when their necks were utterly mutilated. That, and the fact Vergil also had to cope with Dante's perpetual whining, and his refusal to fight to his full potential. Indeed, currently his brother was simply staying as far away from the demons as he could and emptying Ebony and Ivory into them.

It was pathetic, Vergil thought. Phobias were for those with absolutely no mental discipline. Rational fear was bad enough; irrational was practically unforgivable.

With a final sweep of Yamato, the last of the creatures was defeated and slumped bonelessly to the ground. Vergil smirked, re-sheathing his precious blade with elegant finesse. Dante came cautiously to stand beside his brother. "Are they all gone?"

"Yes, Dante." Vergil replied scathingly, more than a little annoyed at his brother for reasons he didn't want to explore "No thanks to your efforts."

"Yeah, well…" Dante made a feeble hand gesture, making a lame attempt to defend his bruised pride. When no excuse was forthcoming, he hastily changed the subject "Uh…nevermind. Which archway do you think we should take?"

"You're a fool, Dante." Vergil said scornfully, disgusted with his brother's naivety "Do you really believe one of these passageways leads to an exit?"

"Right little ray of sunshine, you are." Now the snakes had gone Dante was rapidly regaining his obnoxious humour "There's naught wrong with a bit of good ol' positive thinking, you fanatical pessimist you."

"All the positive thinking in the world won't change the fact that none of these archways lead to an exit."

"But we could _make _it lead to one."

"Since when was there a we?"

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted them. It wasn't that he wanted to spare Dante's feelings…it was simply that it was such a _human _thing to say. It implied that he cared in the first place. He hated the way fighting along Dante felt so _right. _He hated the way Dante's presence made his heart ache when it had been cold and lifeless for so long. He hated that he couldn't hate Dante as much as he wished he did.

"What, would you rather ally with the snakes? Or Arkham?" Dante seemed oblivious to his twin's mental struggles "Or Slinky?"

He waved the decapitated snake-head (now apparently christened 'Slinky') in front of Vergil's nose, grinning unrepentantly as Vergil wrinkled his nose and slapped the thing away. Something white-hot spattered his face, tiny flecks of some sort of liquid burning the skin around his eyes and bridge of his nose. He growled and brushed it off distractedly "Dante." He fixed his twin with a serious gaze "I never said I _wanted _to escape."

Silence.

"You're shitting me." Dante said, quietly. Cold fury seeped in his tone, his eyes smoldering with a murderous rage which surprised Vergil "Seriously, you have got to be fucking kidding me. You're still going on about this power trip crap?"

Vergil did not reply. He felt as though something was stuck in his throat, strangling his voice. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Dante's. In a sudden flash of clarity, he realized that he had no idea what he wanted anymore. Rage reared and burned in his stomach.

"You stay here, and you're _dead._" Dante said angrily, clearly enraged by his twin's stupidity"Do you understand me? Dead. Gone. Or worse, Mundus will make you his slave-"

Vergil laughed a loud, scornful, somewhat despairing laugh. He had to. He didn't know why, but it was amusing. The irony of this whole situation. The fact that Dante had no idea what lay in store for them. A wise person once said knowledge was a curse, and never was the truth of this more evident to Vergil than now.

"You truly are a fool, Dante. You came into our Father's realm, the Demon realm, with absolutely no knowledge of what awaited you. You're ignorant. An ignorant fool."

Dante's eyes narrowed "Maybe I am." He murmured, quietly "But at least I'm not a _coward._"

"I. Am. No. COWARD!" Vergil roared, a tumultuous hoard of emotions overpowering his senses "How dare you call _me _coward! You could never understand! You, who Mother always loved the most! She chose _you_! She-"

He physically choked the words back, breathing heavily, horrified. He was shaking. His entire body felt numb with rage and despair, emotions he had suppressed for what felt like centuries flooding his mind with poisonous thoughts.

"What?" Dante looked about as shocked as Vergil felt, confusion making his face look younger than his features should allow "Vergil, what are you talking about?"

_Human woman! Tell where is other fledgling, or elder Spardaling dies!_

Vergil barely heard him. He clapped his hands over his ears as her screams reverberated within his skull, visions of golden hair drenched with blood and darkness and fire and flames so intense it seemed they scalded him even now. The stench of her death, the derisive laughter, the hot slick of her blood on his hands…

_No, please! I'll do anything, anything at all! Don't hurt him! Vergil!_

"I hate you." He spat at Dante, the blessed twin their mother had chosen to spare "I hate you from the bottom of my heart."

And then he was running.

&&&

**A/N: Oh noes, Vergil! What does he know of their fate? Why does he think Eva loved Dante more than him? Are M&M's nicer than skittles? Can the authoress come up with anymore annoying questions?**

**Anybody who can tell me how to change Dante or Vergil's costume in DMC3 (preferably without completing an entire game…in fact, definitely without completing an entire game) can have a gift oneshot. Because although I'm sure it's a lot of fun to run around hell with no shirt on, Dante, you're going to catch your death of cold. **

**ANYWAY. Here beginith the angst! The brotherly love! The concern! The gratuitous injuries! Huzzah. Review and I'll make the boys hug! There's motivation for you. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: My most sincerest deepest apologies! You have no idea how hectic my schedule has been. I literally haven't had a spare moment for months! Please do forgive a negligent authoress!**

**WARNING: I should warn you all; from here on out, the story does get darker. There will be less humour…unfortunate, because I love writing it, but otherwise nobody would take the plot seriously.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 7**

For the first time in a long time, Vergil felt completely out of control. His mind, usually so strictly disciplined, had descended into chaos. _Stop _he willed himself _stop running, what the hell are you running for? _He wasn't some sort of scorned child. He was calm. He was in CONTROL.

"Vergil!" came the far off holler; far off, but not far off enough. Why was he running? He wasn't _scared _of Dante, surely? No. But this- this aching, this wrenching, nauseating sensation in his gut- it WAS fear. But of what?

His eyes stung violently, and for a shameful moment he was afraid he was crying. But that was ridiculous! He didn't cry, he didn't know how to. Devils never cry. Yet his eyes were burning. Searing with a pain so deep and sharp it felt like a thousand needles were sinking tortuously into his iris. He clutched at his face, blinded, gritting his teeth, and stumbled.

Meanwhile Dante, after a moment of dumbfounded hesitation, had charged in haphazard pursuit of his twin "Ouch! Shit! Son of a…" the previous profanities attest to the fact that said pursuit was not going well "Vergil! I'm not doing this shit again!" why was he even doing this? Why bother to follow? Vergil clearly didn't want to be saved, so why should Dante care?

Then again, he'd already wasted a hearty bit of effort getting this far. Dante was many things, but a quitter was not one of them "I will leave your sorry hide behind, do you hear me!" Wait, that was exactly what Vergil wanted him to do. Fuck.

Dante slammed to bone-grinding halt, and stood, motionless. His brow slowly furrowed. Crap. He wished to Father, Son and Holy Bleedin' Ghost he had enough time to sit about and narrate at length of his feelings, to soliloquize his angst poetically, think it over, study his psyche…but quite frankly he couldn't be fucked. He didn't have the patience for this. All he knew was that he'd lost too much; and he didn't want to lose any more.

He stood stock still, breathing hard, straining his senses, trying to catch the smallest hint of the presence he knew so well. Seconds passed. Nothing. Not a sound.

"VERGIL!" Dante roared, losing patience entirely. He tried to ignore the traitorous edge of panic in his voice "where are you? Dammit!"

He felt like a child again, and he hated it. He felt again like that little boy, in the ill-fitting itchy pullover, with grazed knees and twigs in his hair, sticky with sweat. He felt again the pang of loss, of panic, when they used to play their jesting games: hide and seek, tag, you're it. He had always lost: he had always cried out for his lost brother before the game was over, and always Vergil would come to him with a wry grin and a mocking taunt, and although Dante protested he had never really cared. Just so long as Vergil came back.

Just once, he hadn't.

The silence meandered on. THUD, clatter. Dante snapped around. Movement in the dark. The faint rattle of delicate metal on stone. He hurtled in the direction of the disturbance, ignoring every shameful reprimand his pride broadcast at him. _I'm sick of this joke. _He thought, desperately, feeling at once disgusted and liberated _I'm sick of this pretence. _

Suddenly, a blue figure loomed out of the thick darkness. Dante sped up, and growled, his confusion replaced immediately with anger upon sighting his wayward brother "Vergil, you bast–"

He stopped dead. The razor sharp tip of Yamato rested gently yet threateningly against his Adam's apple, and Dante swallowed on reflex.

"What the fuck are you doing, dude, it's me!" he tried to ignore how cold Yamato was against the skin of his neck. Quiet. Goosebumps rose along his collarbone. Quiet. Deafening quiet. A bead of sweat swells upon his brow, and slithers slowly down the contours of his face.

Yamato seemed to shiver, a soft succession of tremors unsteadying it, and with a soft hiss it was whipped away. Dante did not move, remained rigid and tense "Jeez. What the Hell do you think you're playing at, huh?" he addresses Vergil's blue patterned bent back "I risked my arse following you down here and I'll be damned if that fine arse goes to waste!"

Still his brother does not move. Had it not been for the light shift and rustle of silk as he breathed, Dante would have thought him dead on his feet.

Silence. Nothing but Dante's harsh pants, and Vergil's soft inhalations. Something snaps.

"LOOK AT ME, DAMMIT!"

Dante seizes his elder twin by the shoulders and twists him forcefully to face him. Nothing. No response. Vergil follows his movements like a rag doll, and Dante is so shocked he loosens his grip "Vergil?" he says, uncertainly, and the walls echo his concern mockingly back at him. He growls. The dull blackness blankets them, and Vergil's face is in shadow "Damn, it's dark in here…"

"But not that dark." A muffled voice murmurs. There's something odd in Vergil's tone. Something Dante has heard very few times before: the light, icy suggestion of fear. A shiver runs up and down Dante's spine. His heart skips a beat. A million possibilities file through his head, colliding and forming a cacophony of panic. Wait…but what could be wrong? They're _invulnerable! _Mutant half-breeds! Vergil couldn't be hurt. Of course not. He didn't care if he was, anyway. Stubborn bastard.

"Vergil? What the hell do you mean 'not that dark'?" he slams Vergil against the wall, and his frustration only builds when his twin does not fight back "for the love of pepperoni, get a fucking grip! What the hell are you playing at, running off like a sissy girl?!"

"Dante." His twin cuts him off sharply, his tone as clipped and cold as ever, but ever so slightly shaky. Dante realizes he was mistaken. It wasn't fear he had heard in his unshakeable brother's tone, but something both similar and different. It was pain. "Can you see me?"

"What?" he blurts out harshly, confused "Are you blind or something, I'm standing right in front of you!"

Quiet. Seconds pass.

"Dante…" Vergil's voice is very, very soft, and he hesitates before gritting out "I can't _see._"

Silence.

"What?" the word fell bluntly out of Dante's mouth, his mind sluggishly processing what he had just heard. System error…system error…brain cannot compute. Possible cause: uncomprehendible situation. Possible responses: a, attempt to solve problem like an intelligent and vaguely competent sort of person; b, stand dumbly gawping like a fish.

No prizes for guessing which option Dante chose.

Vergil growled "I. Can't. _SEE. _Anything_._" He repeated, focusing on how much Dante was pissing him off to avoid thinking about this potentially fatal (not to mention highly humiliating) turn of events. When it came down to it, it seemed the Son's of Sparda had many traits in common: the ability to deny things point blank being one of the less commendable ones.

Dante, meanwhile, was experiencing an internal conflict of manly pride versus remnants of fraternal concern. Now, Vergil was not only (in Dante's rather biased opinion) a prancing, cold-hearted prissy ponce but a USELESS prancing cold-hearted prissy ponce. Blind. Jesus. How the hell would Vergil be able to fight an enemy he couldn't even _see?_

Dante eyed the grimace of pain contorting his twin's features, and felt the slightest of lurches in the pit of his stomach "Here, hold this up for me, will you?" he grunted, shoving a grubby hand into one of the many small leather pouches at his waist and fumbling. A toothpick. A moldy baked bean. Something furry and suspiciously alive-feeling and- ah!

Vergil heard a sharp click and the soft hiss of chemical reactions, and barely restrained himself from flinching violently as something cold and metallic was shoved into his palm "What is it?" the sharp scent of something acrid like gasoline was pervading the air…

"It's a lighter, now will you just hold it?" Came Dante's irritated tones, far more defined than usual, the intonations clearer. Vergil noted a heightening in all his remaining senses, compromising for his lack of sight "And stay still!"

Coarse fingers roughly tried to pry his hands away from his eyes, and Vergil snarled, jerking violently away, and hissed "Don't touch me!"

"Christ sake, Vergil, I'm trying to fucking help you! Do you want to stay blind?"

Vergil shrunk backwards, his feet faltering on the uneven floor, and felt an animalistic surge of terror rise within him. He felt like a cornered rat, the darkness smothering and choking him, the pain in his eyes intolerable, every sound and smell and touch and _feel _of the world around him frighteningly vivid, and frighteningly foreign. In this heightened state, he felt more demon than human. The slick dampness of moisture in the air, the acidic tang of blood and intoxicating heaviness of sulphur. Dante's harsh breathing. The rustle of leather, the clink of metal. And something else. Something beyond a smell or a sound, but an instinct, screaming at him, an aura, so familiar. The primitive voice in his head breathed in the presence of Dante and purred: _Twin._

Vergil shuddered.

"Look, not like I care or anything, but you might want to let me look at that wreck you call a face." Vergil could almost taste the smirk on the air "Can't let you walk around like that, it'll ruin my prospects with the ladies."

Very, very slowly, Vergil peeled his hands away from his face. The skin across his cheeks and nose, and especially around the eyes throbbed and stung viciously, and he could feel the regenerating flesh being eaten away by something as it attempted to heal. Vergil suppressed the urge to grimace and wince, and instead, painfully, allowed the muscles in his face to relax.

Dante's lack of response was more ominous in itself, and when he spoke it was with an unsettling lack of emotion "How do your eyes feel, Vergil?"

Vergil bared his teeth in what he thought was Dante's general direction, ignoring the way his heart beat out a rhythm of rising panic in his chest "Like shit." He considered the sensation, the feeling of a writhing poison eating away at his face "Burn. They feel like they're burning." He gritted out, wincing.

A moment of awkward quiet. Vergil almost (note the ALMOST) wished Dante would mock him, give him some excuse to get angry, anything to stop thinking about how much it damn HURT! He was not used to enduring pain for any length of time, and this…relentless cycle of agony was excruciating!

"Did any of the Medusa demons get anywhere near your face?" Dante's voice rang out, too guarded, too carefully put. Vergil stiffened.

"Just Slinky." He said, without thinking, and his cheeks flushed slightly at how ridiculous that sounded. He recalled with mounting rage how Dante had waved the gruesome snake head in front of his face, spattering his features with a stinging substance he was now sure was venom. DAMN Dante and his absurd, childish mannerisms! Making him look the fool! Anger flooded his head, cooling the panic somewhat. Calm. Control. Stay in control.

"Who?" Dante's incredulous voice, incredulous at his, Vergil's, lack of composure only served to make his twin's blood boil "Your decapitated head pet, you idiot!" Vergil spat furiously, trying to convince himself the shaking in his limbs was fury, and not- something unthinkable.

Realization. "Oh." The slightest hint of guilt seeped into Dante's tone "_Shit._"

_What?! _Vergil forced himself to wait for Dante to elaborate, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't be blind permanently. Surely not. It was impossible. Inconceivable.

"Some of the Medusa demon venom must've got in your eyes." Dante muttered sheepishly "You know, the…uh…" he trailed off slightly "evil non-healable demon-resistant…venom?"

Vergil drew in a long breath, wrestling his emotions and his mind into submission. Must…resist…urge…to rip idiotic twin brother limb from identical limb. Finally, when he felt composed enough, he (rather foolishly, in hindsight) murmured coldly "I see."

Dante, despite feeling slightly guilty, just could not resist.

"Well, actually, most useless and idiotic twin of mine, you don't 'see'!" Dante's gleeful laughter wrenched his twin from perfect composure to uncontainable rage "I hope you know how to read 'exit from hell' in brail!"

If Vergil had been able to see where his infuriating face was, he would have punched his twin so hard the wall would have come off worse for the impact.

&

**A/N: Apologies again for the wait! Anyone still alive out there, I'd appreciate some feedback to let me know if my writing's still up to scratch (or, as I suspect, that I need to go and dunk my head in a cauldron of literary talent XD ) Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Yes, I'm back! Having re-played the game and read me a lot of fanfiction, I have returned! I really hope my writing hasn't been flushed down the drain by the evil influence of school…anyway sorry for the wait, enjoy! Oh, and a shiny gold star for anyone who spots the Barney reference.**

**Chapter 8**

Dante tapped his foot slowly, waiting impatiently for the awkward silence to lift and Virgil to rejoin the land of the…well, the land of the dead and damned. Wow, that was a depressing thought. And to think, he could totally be in Hawaii or some other more interesting place right now. Or trying his luck with that Lady chick. On second thought, NO. Pleat skirts weren't his thing, and besides, that oversized phallic missile launcher had to say _something _about her expectations. He shuddered. Well, at least hell was hotter than Hawaii. Crappy weather though, and no beaches or topless women. Or maybe there were. Crazy vampire lady had been topless…

A soft ripping sound, and Dante was jolted away from the cleavage and pina colada's and back to reality. Through the shadows, he could just make out Vergil fumbling with the silken scarf at his neck.

"What are you doing?" he asked, dumbly, still slightly in shock with the heavy knowledge of guilt, and the revelation that Vergil, _Vergil, _his unflappable invulnerable twin brother was…flapping and vulnerable. Well, maybe not flapping. But certainly getting in a flap. Wait, what?

"Fashioning a bandage." His brother muttered curtly, turning his back and continuing to struggle with the infernal necktie. The silk was slippery and cool in his hands, and he shivered, forcing images of blood soaked palms and spattered soil from his mind. It was likely he would not see his hands again for a long time.

"That's it?" Dante asked, incredulous "You've just found out you could possibly be stone blind for life, which for us is a looooooooong time you may recall, never see food, women, or anything else at all forever and ever and ever and all you do is tie a piece of cloth around your head?"

Vergil, back still turned, simply growled "That particular comment was neither helpful nor necessary." With rigid efficiency, he wrapped the material tightly around the still excruciatingly painful affliction and tied the scarf into a neat knot "I'm confident they will eventually heal."

This was lie of epic proportions, and they both knew it. As…unconventional beings, they were neither accustomed nor comfortable with the prospect of pain or injury. Vergil recalled with a grimace a time when they were young when some local demon-hunting fanatic had somehow managed to get hold of a curse that actually worked. He had only vague memories of that time, of he and Dante writhing in agony on sweat soaked sheets, the curse's fire wracking their thin frames until they had begun stabbing themselves just for distraction. Caught in the throes of the holy fever they had clung to each other, lashing out at any other, gripped in the terror of human pain.

Needless to say, Vergil was far from a fan of masochism.

Meanwhile, Dante was still incredulous "You're such an emotionless freak." Vergil glared. The 'freak' comment almost stung "We don't know when 'eventually' is!" Vergil turned, and Dante forcibly stopped himself from sucking in a breath. The once cornflower blue scarf was already soaked in blood, dripping mournfully down his twin's usually immaculate coat. His chest constricted painfully "And it must hurt like a bitch too." He murmured softly, averting his gaze. It was somehow…uncomfortable to look at Vergil when he could not look back.

"Pain is nothing to be feared, Dante. It is merely a distraction. An irritation." Vergil said, as coolly as he could.

"Beneath you, is it, Mr Superior?" Dante snapped in reply, the comfortable scathing returning to his tone "Why are your hands shaking, then?"

Vergil jerked as if his brother had struck him, and clenched his fists to quell their shameful quaking "You're mistaken." He stated, forcing his breathing to remain even "They are NOT shaking."

Dante did not reply. Vergil fumed, locked away in utter blackness, the pain still unbearable, temper rising. He could practically smell Dante's stream of emotions, hear his thought processes, see in his mind's eye every possible expression crossing his features. Shame, guilt, hatred, frustration, confusion. _Pity. _He growled, more to break the silence than anything, and the makeshift bandage became dislodged.

Without thinking, Dante reached out.

"Unhand me!" Vergil snarled viciously, slapping at where he perceived the outstretched hand to be and almost choking when his fist met empty air "I don't need _your _help!"

"And just how do you expect to survive down here, huh?" His twin exploded, Dante's fragile patience finally shattering "Slash Yamato wildly and hope you land a hit? You'll get creamed in seconds!"

Dammit, Dante thought frantically, they were wasting time. This was possibly their one and only chance of getting out of this hellhole, and they were squandering it bitching about emotional issues! For fuck's sake if he had to employ a demonic marriage counselor he would do it, but first they had to GET OUT! Plus, it was sort of scaring him that Vergil was shaken. Sort of. Not really though. He was not that pathetic little brother who hid behind his bigger bolder twin's back anymore.

Somewhere in Dante's subconscious, a little voice accused him of having issues. Meanwhile, Vergil was (as per usual) infuriated "I don't need to see to fight, you ignorant-"

Dante cut across him, starting forward "Oh, yeah, right, suuuuuure." He spat, grabbing the lapels of his twin's coat and wrenching him up so they were face to face…or face to scarf, anyway "I don't think it's your _eyes _that need checking, it's your brain. Just what are you trying to pull!"

There was a moment of silence, then Vergil's head abruptly snapped to the side and Dante nearly dropped him as his twin shoved his hand into Dante's coat and reach around his back with lightning speed.

OhmyGODI'mbeinggropedbymytwin "What the f-"

Five gunshots.

From Ebony. Which was now in Vergil's hand and pointed down some random corridor.

Which Vergil had grabbed.

From his holster.

His holster strapped to the base of his back.

Oh. Right. Okay. AWKWARD.

"I'm proving a point." Vergil said coldly, completely oblivious, easily pulling free of Dante's stunned grip and shoving Ebony forcibly into his twin's slack palm "There were three Reaper Demons approaching from the third passage to your left."

"Watch the personal space!" Dante managed to splutter, refusing to admit he was pleased to see that Vergil's hands had stopped shaking and the good ol' smugness was back "Show off."

"Demonic instinct goes further than you'd think, Dante." Vergil's tone grew slightly awe-filled as he spoke, and Dante began to feel slightly sick "Never forget, almost the entirety of the Demon population live in complete darkness, and we are half Demon. Humanity's pitiful weakness of relying almost entirely on a single sense is pathetic. Do you really think I would allow myself to maintain such a weakness? I-"

Something cold and metallic pressed painfully into the base of Vergil's skull, and he froze. Yet somehow, he felt no apprehension, no threat. It was as though the gun itself emanated its intentions. The presence that was Dante was no longer in front of him.

"Dante, what are you doing?" He said, warningly, and he could sense Dante grinning "Proving a point." He parroted mockingly "While you've been talking I've managed to move all the way around you and point both my guns at the back of your head."

Vergil's lip curled; his pride had taken more knocks than a whac-a-mole in the past few hours alone, and Dante certainly was not helping "It is simple enough to track your movements." He sneered, managing to retain his cool, just barely "You just follow the stench of pizza and mouldy leather."

Vergil whipped around with inhuman speed and struck a sweeping blow with a sheathed Yamato at…empty air. His stomach plummeted when he felt the mocking pressure of a gun in his back.

"Do NOT insult the leather." Dante prodded him hard for emphasis "Oh, and I lied. I'm actually now standing slightly to the left of you. But you see what I'm getting at, right? So you can beat up a bunch of smelly flunkies, big freakin' deal. Reaper Demons are about as stealthy as a stoned squirrel on rollerblades."

"Interesting analogy." Vergil answered, for lack of anything else to say.

"Vergil, this is serious!" The ironic voice in Vergil's head decided it was time to chip into the conversation: My God, is that the nine horsemen of the apocalypse? Dante thinks something is serious! "We're in deepest Hell; we're dealing with the small fry now, but how long do you think that'll last? More importantly, how long do you think _you _will last?"

Vergil was finding it increasingly difficult to comprehend that Dante was speaking sense. Making a constructive argument. With little to no abusive language involved. It was easy to mock his brother when he was being the annoying self-righteous epitome of arrogance he usually was, but-

"What would you have me do?" Vergil replied, his tone far less defensive than he had intended it to be "I don't have any choice but to fight." Wasn't _that_ just the story of his life.

"Sure you do." Two loud clicks nearly made Vergil flinch as the guns were removed from his lower back; the rustle of leather and the groaning creak of holsters informed his blind brain that Dante had (praise the Lord) put his guns away "Just keep your whiny self out of the fighting from here on out. I'll watch your back. Seeing as 'watching' is a bit of a no-brainer for you right now."

There was a long moment of quiet. Vergil could hear Dante shifting impatiently, but ignored it. He hated to admit it, but his twin really had him guessing. What had happened to the comfortable 'I hate you, you hate me, let's beat each other up for eternity' arrangement? Why was Dante suddenly acting like he cared? "If I did that, I would truly be a coward." Vergil said, guardedly "I've already told you, Dante: I _don't need you_. I didn't need you then, and I don't need you now. I never will."

Another long silence. Vergil cleared his mind and sharpened his remaining senses, trying to gauge Dante's reaction through instinct alone. It proved impossible. There had been a time when Vergil would have been able to tell exactly what his twin was thinking without even being in the same room as him. It was probably an intrinsic demonic defense mechanism programmed into them to improve their chances of survival. But it seemed that connection had been severed long ago.

Dante snorted and Vergil resurfaced from his dark thoughts "Funny thing. 'Cause those guns that were sticking in your back? They say that you do."

"I don't need your permission to do _anything!_"

"Rebellion says you do." Dante's voice once again took on that infuriating gloating tone "Don't you Rebellion? Can't you hear him?" Vergil nearly blanched when Dante put on a childish falsetto voice "_Yeah, Vergil, be a good boy and do what Dante says or I'll get shoved where the sun doesn't shine, and I'm sure neither of us wants that. Well, I don't, I don't know about you, though, kinky boy."_

Vergil flushed hotly, his hatred for his twin returning full force "You're insane!"

"No, just a little twisted." Dante's disembodied voice said, smugly. Vergil turned his back on his twin, outraged and for once, speechless. This was why he hated being close to people, to humans. They were so confusing. He feared them, he supposed, because he did not understand them, and that in turn made him angry. Dante especially. His twin moved without warning from insulting him, to offering help, to acting _concerned _of all the ridiculous pathetic human expressions of emotion. Vergil was exhausted. The constant agony of the acidic poison eating away at his face was draining what little energy he had left, and his mind was not as sharp as it should be. It took all his determination to keep his limbs from shaking with fatigue.

Dante seemed to somehow sense Vergil's sudden change in mood, and suddenly became sober again "Look, I'm not doing this to spite you."

Vergil laughed bitterly "Somehow, I find that statement less than sincere."

"Okay, maybe it is a _little _for my own amusement, but seriously. It would reaaally screw up my psyche if you died now."

"Then consider your psyche screwed." Vergil snarled, seriously considered finding a way to kill himself right now just to spite his obnoxious and confusing twin.

"Look." His twin said forcefully, and Vergil could practically feel his temper rising "We're more likely to survive this together than apart, that's a statistical fact. So for once, just for ONCE in your ridiculous pride-orientated poncy pig-headed life will you just shut up and follow me!"

Vergil felt the ground sway sickeningly beneath his feet, and managed to grit out a sharp reply through clenched teeth "Fine."

"Huh?" Dante answered intelligently, and Vergil took some small pleasure as he tasted Dante's surprise in the air.

"I said fine. Go. We have little time." Then, to ward off suspicion "Ladies first."

"Dickhead." Dante muttered, his heavy steps sounding two metres to Vergil's right. Vergil managed a weak smile, forced his own legs to follow and swung Yamato in Dante's direction. He was rewarded by an indignant "OW!"

"I'm blind, not deaf."

"Bastard."

"If I am, so are you."

"Get bent."

"What does that even mean?" Vergil's mind was swimming, but thankfully it seemed the brotherly banter was on autopilot "Some kind of colloquialism?"

"Hey! Watch-"

Vergil felt that foreboding plummet in his stomach before the inevitable realization that the floor he was so sure his right foot was about to become in contact with proved to be nothing but empty air. He overbalanced and gravity pulled him gleefully downwards, and he braced himself for a long fall, only to crash unceremoniously headfirst into what he deduced was a pile of rubble mere seconds later.

'Well, there go the ribs again' he thought darkly, lying still and wincing slightly as the crushed mass of organs and bones in his chest began feverishly repairing itself. He did not even bother moving as he heard a pattern of thuds, some above and some very close to his ear that indicated Dante had jumped down beside him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder and Dante's voice, quiet and free of insult "You alright?"

His evident pity drove Vergil close to the brink of despair "Stop it!" he hissed, his distress rising when it came out far weaker than he had intended "Stop talking to me like I'm some kind of useless weakling! I am not an invalid, and I certainly have no need for pity." He gripped the harsh edges of the rocks he lay on so hard he felt them break the skin and bleed "Especially from _you._"

There was no reply. Vergil could not even hear his twin breathing. Had he not still felt Dante's presence so strongly beside him, he would have sworn his brother had disappeared.

"Go on then, have your laugh." He murmured coldly, struggling upright, breathing hard, relying more on sheer willpower than physical strength. Without warning, a pair of strong hands grabbed his arms and hauled him upright, and Vergil felt shame overwhelm him as his head spun and his knees nearly buckled under his weight.

"I'm not laughing, Vergil." Dante said quietly, his tone unreadable. Vergil pressed his back against the stone wall and waited for his head to clear.

"Why are you even here?" He said, as the web of confusion slowly lifted. He heard Dante's intention to avoid the question with some insulting quip before his twin even opened his mouth, and he quickly added sternly "I want the _truth_."

For what felt like hours, Dante seemed to struggle with himself. Eventually, he began to speak, in a defeated tone which made him sound as exhausted as Vergil felt; world weary "You're my brother." He hesitated "My twin. You're-" the tension in the air was so thick it was suffocating "I hate it, but…that still means something to me. Even if it doesn't to you."

Vergil felt a cold dread pierce his heart, ruthlessly suppressing the oncoming rush of emotional turmoil, and simply said mechanically "Let's get moving." Dante silently began to walk, his thoughts a mystery.

Vergil allowed his mind to drift with some considerable effort. There was no immediate danger for now, just the uneven echo of Dante's feet followed by the almost inaudible tread of his own, and he desperately needed time to get his spinning head in order. Vergil noted that even after all these years, his twin still walked with a slightly lopsided way that led one foot to stomp more than the other. He swallowed, his chest feeling suddenly tight. He hated this. The comfortable cold, emotionless persona he had reinforced over years of struggling to survive in a world where he was met with nothing but hatred and fear was being torn away piece by piece. But this was what Dante did, what he always had done. Even in the early days his twin somehow made the world dance to his tune while Vergil could only shakily try to maintain his footing.

He had not wanted this. When he had realised for the first time after so long that Dante was still alive he had felt…nothing. No relief, no joy. Just…fear. Dante belonged to a different world now. He was no longer safe, no longer readable, and no longer trustworthy. He was not the brother Vergil had once known. He had suppressed his memories of that time for so long that he had almost convinced himself he WAS a demon. That he had never had a family, a Mother, Father…Brother. His first instinct was to push Dante away as much as humanely possible. Ha, humanely. He was not human. Not anymore. And yet…somewhere deep inside him, he still felt that terrible ache, a longing so deep and primal that it frightened him. Dante was the only remaining fragment of a time before this hateful existence, this loneliness. A time when life had been hard, but bearable. It had never been a fairytale; in all the old stories the demons and trolls and ogres were never the ones with the happy ending, but…

_Vergil, why did the Prince kill the dragon?_

_Because he kidnapped the Princess, stupid._

_Don't call me stupid! WHY did the dragon kidnap the Princess? And why would the stupid Prince want the smelly Princess if she's so useless she can't escape by herself?_

_It's just a story, idiot._

_Yeah, but…what if the dragon was just lonely, Vergil?_

Over time, Vergil had developed a fond affinity for said dragon. He certainly felt like the lumbering scaly generic 'bad guy' next to his fun-loving too 'cool' (was that the word they used nowadays?) gun-toting, devil may care (isn't that irony) twin. It seemed that their separation so long ago had been almost entirely beneficial for Dante, who had grown out of his older twin's shadow and transformed from a defensive, insecure and timid little boy into a confident (if slightly insane) man. Dante thrived on danger and developed an inner strength that Vergil had never had, and now it was he following his younger brother's footsteps, not vice versa. Vergil supposed the truth of the entire matter was that he was jealous. Perhaps he always had been.

He had seen too much. He had done too much. There was no salvation now.

"It's miiiiighty quiet back there, Vergil. You still alive?"

He had loved his twin, once. He had given everything he had to protect him that night, so very long ago: his innocence, pride…possibly his sanity. All in vain, or so he had thought. But even now, now he knew all he had given had saved a life, he wondered whether it was worth it.

&&&

**A/N: Heee! Bet you all thought I was going yaoi on your asses when Vergil grabbed Dante's guns (snigger) I am so bad! I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. Gun euphemisms are so fun! ^^ Fear not, dear readers; I may be a hardcore yaoi fan but this particular fic is all about the brotherly-twin love. Bless. **

**If your even one degree less than outraged with me, please review! Thanks for reading! Oh, and I'd like to ask you all a question: who here likes Nero?**


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